Sins of Our Forefathers
by katstales
Summary: While attempting to finalize an alliance on another planet, things don't quite go according to plan and Sheppard nearly pays the ultimate price.


**_Note:_**_ This was written for the SGA HC Challenge community on LiveJournal. The story came in well over the 4000 word limit and I had to cut quite a bit of the ending to submit it there. The ending posted here is the original, which contains more material and an additional character than the version posted at the Challenge community._

_Also, despite appearances, there is no permanent character death in this story. _

* * *

He was screwed. Totally and completely screwed. He didn't know why and he didn't know exactly how yet, but he had _that_ feeling in his gut. The one that told him that somehow, some way, he, Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, was about to step in it again and the results were not going to be pretty. At all.

He took in every detail as he and his team followed Darne down the brightly lit hallway to the underground council chambers, even as his thoughts wandered. On the surface, the Kaligarans had seemed like just another group of rustic farmers. But after a week of hammering out a trading arrangement for a grain that was very similar to Earth wheat and had the entire botany department positively salivating, the Kaligarans had surprised them and revealed an underground society that was more advanced than even the Genii--though far less ruthless. Or so it seemed thus far. Then yet another bout of haggling had ensued and an agreement to become allies had been reached. Now there was one final hurdle to clear before the pact became final: an appearance before the full council in the secret underground chamber to "assess the honor and worthiness of our new friends." John shivered involuntarily just thinking about it.

He frowned as they turned yet another corner and headed down another long stretch of hallway. It was the 6th turn so far; four left and two right. It was as if Darne was leading them in circles, intentionally trying to confuse them. Like the others, this one was lined with what Darne had said were portraits of past council members--portraits that were identical to their counterparts in every detail, right down to the frames. It was downright creepy, really. John shook his head and exchanged a wary look with Ronon.

"So Darne. Tell us more about this meeting. For instance, is there anything that we might find helpful to know before we get there?"

Darne never broke stride as he shot a quizzical look at the colonel. "As I have already told you, Colonel, this is merely a formality. The council must..."

"...assess our worthiness as allies and determine how honorable we are, yes, we got that. But you've left out a few minor details. Like, for instance, how exactly do they go about this assessment?"

The Kaligaran frowned. "They are the council. They will know what they need to know once you have entered and been introduced to them."

Sheppard sighed. Getting any concrete information about this meeting was like pulling teeth and John was quickly losing his patience. "Okay, let's start with that. You say we go in and are introduced to them. That's it? That's all there is to it?"

Darne nodded. "Yes, we will enter and you will each stand before the council. As leader of the group, you will be expected to speak on behalf of your people."

"Well that sounds easy enough." The knot in his stomach tightened further with each step, the feeling of something amiss refusing to be quelled. The old adage "nothing is ever as easy as it seems" popped into his head and repeated in a continuous loop.

When at last they arrived at the chamber entrance, Darne stopped them in front of the wide, ornate bronze doors. "You will wait here while I will go in to announce your arrival. When I return, we will enter as a group. You will each spread out to stand before one of the platforms facing the council; when your name is announced, you will step up and bow in greeting to the members--however, no one save Colonel Sheppard will be allowed to address them. I cannot stress enough the importance of this," he cautioned, looking directly at McKay as he spoke.

Affronted, Rodney appeared to be gearing up for another tirade, but John pinned him with a warning glare as he answered the Kaligaran. "We all understand and will be more than happy to observe your protocols."

Scowling, McKay grudgingly agreed. "Yes, yes, fine. Can we just get on with it already?"

Teyla nodded. "Of course. We would not dream of showing any disrespect to your people."

"What she said," added Ronon.

Reassured, Darne disappeared through the heavy doors. John turned to his team and offered a strained smile. Before anyone could say a a word, the Kaligaran was back at the door beckoning them inside. They did as instructed, each going to stand before one of the platforms in front of the table where the council members were seated.

Darne wasted no time in making the introductions. "Esteemed members of the Council of Kaligara, may I present Teyla Emmagen of Athos." Teyla stepped up onto the square and bowed, smiling graciously at the dour group seated behind the long table--though John thought calling the six-inch rise a platform was a bit overkill himself.

Ronon was next and while he bowed as instructed, he omitted the smile. At least he didn't snarl, growl, or bare his teeth at them, thought Sheppard.

"And this is Doctor Rodney McKay," announced Darne. John frowned as Rodney stepped up onto his platform. The step was about two feet square and as soon as McKay's foot touched it, the surface took on a very faint blue glow. The council members watched for what seemed a long time, but then nodded to the prickly scientist and turned their attention to Sheppard.

John breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that they'd just dodged another bullet, but the feeling in his gut hadn't lessened the slightest bit. He didn't have time to ponder it though, as Darne was already introducing him to the council members. "...now present to you Colonel John Sheppard, leader and spokesman of these people."

John nodded solemnly and stepped up onto his own platform. "Hi, folks. It's a pleasure..." He stopped mid-sentence as looks of stunned dismay appeared on the face of every Kaligaran in the room.

It was then he realized that their mouths were moving even though he couldn't hear a word. Frowning, he looked down where one of the council members was pointing and noticed that his own platform had turned from pristine white to a vivid, pulsing blue. He tried to step forward, but his foot met the sizzle of an energy field. His stomach did a flip and he tried to step backward, but again an energy field was there to stop him.

Fighting his rising panic, he reached a hand to each side and was not surprised to encounter more shields. Eyes wide, he turned his team and was surprised to find they were animatedly pointing and gesturing between him and the council. His panic rose again at a hissing sound, which was quickly followed by a gurgling noise as water began to fill the bottom of his enclosure.

The water rose rapidly and was up to his thighs in a matter of seconds. Pushing aside his fear, he began to methodically kick and pound on the energy walls in search of a weakness. He found nothing and still the water continued to rise. Once it reached his chest, panic took over and he frantically kicked and thrashed against all four barriers. It reached his chin and seconds later was over his head. He tried to stay above the surface, but a force-field ceiling a foot above him quickly put an end to that and all too soon he soon ran out of air. He held his breath as long as he could, fighting desperately all the while to free himself. Finally, his lungs about to burst, he looked to his team.

Rodney's face was beet-red, spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he screamed and railed at the Kaligaran council. He pounded his fists against the force field that now surrounded his platform as well. At least none of the others were filling with water, he thought. Ronon's face was nearly purple with rage as over and over he threw himself against the force field that now surrounded him also. Teyla was more in control, but was urgently gesturing toward John and pleading in vain for them to free him, tears filling her eyes.

John tried to catch their attention, knowing that it was too late for him now. He had no choice; his lungs burned with the need to breathe, even though there was no air. He felt the bubbles rise from his mouth as he exhaled, a feeling of peace washing over him as he accepted that this was the end.

Finally, Rodney looked over at him, screaming something that John could not hear as he sank to his knees. Teyla and Ronon must have heard though, because as the last of the air bubbles floated from his mouth to the top, they both looked directly at him. With his air totally depleted, John raised his hand to wave at them one final time, wishing he could do something, anything to ease their distress over his situation. His lungs burned with the need for oxygen and his vision began to tunnel and darken, but he kept his eyes firmly on the three people who meant the most to him. The room grew ever smaller and dimmer, their faces gradually fading away until there was nothing.

* * *

"He dies, you die, old man."

John was pulled from the darkness by the sound of Ronon's low but deadly threat. Sheppard knew that tone all too well; it was the one that said the Satedan had clearly been pushed to his limits and bad things were going to happen unless someone stepped in. And since he was team leader, that meant it was up to him. Groaning, John rolled to his side and pushed himself up. There was no time to contemplate what he'd been doing on the floor; when Ronon got that worked up every second counted.

Assuming that he himself was the "he" that Ronon had been referring to, Sheppard stumbled over to the Satedan. "Easy there, big guy. Care to fill me in on what I missed while I was out?"

No one acknowledged that John was there, much to his growing irritation. The old man who Ronon had been pointing his blaster at did not so much as glance at Sheppard as he continued the argument. "He is an Ancestor," spat Ronon's adversary. "Ancestors are not welcome here! They abandoned us to Wraith once--we will not allow that to happen again!"

"I told you," said Ronon. "He has some Ancestor in his blood, but he's NOT an Ancestor."

Dex's grip tightened on the blaster and John knew that he was going to fire any moment now. He had to act and fast. Still feeling a little rocky, Sheppard stepped in front of Ronon. "Put that down before you do something we all regret." He spared a glance back at the council head before continuing. "Look, I'm fine, so why don't we all just sit down and talk about this calmly and rationally?"

John watched in horror as Ronon's finger began to tighten around the trigger. Without thinking, he reached out to grab the Satedan's arm and deflect the shot to the floor--only to have his hand go straight through Ronon's arm.

He stared at his hand, stunned by what had happened. He barely heard Rodney's urgent voice behind him. "He's not responding--come on, we have to get him back to Carson. Now!"

Ronon growled in frustration before dropping the blaster and sheathing it in its holster. "I meant what I said," he warned. "He dies, you die." Without another word to the council, he whirled and trotted over to McKay.

John watched him go, only to received a second major shock. Rodney and Teyla were kneeling beside a body, frantically administering CPR. Not just a body--_his_ body. He couldn't move, couldn't even call out as Ronon grabbed the arms of the him on the floor who wasn't breathing and hefted him over his shoulder. The trio took off running, leaving behind the him who was...what? Dead? A ghost?

Watching them go, he found that he could no longer breathe. Hysterical laughter bubbled up within him, spilling out to fill the room but unheard by anyone other than himself. What did it matter that he couldn't breathe--he was dead and dead people didn't breathe, did they? Laughter finally ebbing, he sank to the floor as his vision again darkened. He remembered now. He'd drowned. He had stepped onto that blasted platform and triggered something. Something that caused it to turn into a shielded cage which promptly filled with water. A violent shudder wracked his slender frame at the memory of his struggle for air. He was dead and the darkness was coming for him. Wasn't there supposed to be a light, he wondered?

No, he thought. This wasn't right. He couldn't be dead. Atlantis. He needed to get back to Atlantis. And Carson. Carson would know how to fix this, fix _him_. He had to go back with the others, with his...body. He tried to rise, to go find them, but his legs refused to work. He heard a noise in the distance and recognized the sound of the wormhole forming. He tried to yell at them to stop, to scream in outrage that they were leaving him behind, but no sound would come. His shoulders shook again with hysterical laughter, but almost instantly his laughter morphed into despairing sobs.

Feeling utterly alone on an alien world, John surrendered once more to the rapidly encroaching darkness.

* * *

"Please, I beg of you."

Teyla's voice was the next thing John heard. He tried to open his eyes, but they were too heavy. There was nothing to do but lay there and listen while waiting for his strength to return. A voice answered her and though familiar, he couldn't place it.

"No, I am sorry. We simply cannot grant your request. You must accept that there is nothing to be done; that is why our forefathers chose it." The almost-familiar voice softened. "I cannot tell you how much we regret these developments. But our laws are clear regarding the return of the Ancestors; they must be made to understand what they did when they fled, abandoning us to suffer at the hands of the Wraith. Had we known the Colonel Sheppard was one of them, we would never have proposed the alliance. No, there is simply no way that we can comply with your request, no matter how much our people came to like and respect him during our negotiations."

"I already told you, Sheppard's not an Ancestor." Ronon's low, menacing growl brought a sense of urgency to John's fight for awareness.

"Ronon, please." Teyla tried to rein him in, but John knew from experience how difficult a task that was. As he fought to get his eyes to open, a growing sense of deja vu came over him.

"Don't," warned Dex. "Someone needs to tell them how wrong this is."

Teyla sighed, obviously realizing that she was fighting a losing battle. John tried to rise and go to her aid, but all he could do was turn his head toward the sound of the voices.

Ronon took a step toward the head councilman. Though his blaster was still safely in its holster, the Satedan was menacing as he towered over the old man. "You have no idea what you've done. You say you want the Ancestors to know what it felt like to be left at the mercy of the Wraith. But you're refusing to allow that all this happened ten thousand years ago--the Ancestors who are responsible are all gone now! Sheppard wasn't even alive when the Ancestors left. He never even heard of the Pegasus galaxy until three years ago."

"The law is clear; the Ancestors must be shown their error should they return." The old man did not back down, refusing to give even an inch. He was either really brave or extremely foolish, John wasn't sure which.

Ronon shook his head at the man's stubborn ignorance. "You have no idea what you've done, do you? The Ancestors haven't returned--they're all either dead or ascended! Sheppard's got some Ancestor blood in him, enough that he can make their machines and stuff work, but he's not one of them. He came here three years ago with his people, and even though he could go back to his own galaxy any time he wants, he stays. And he fights. He's been responsible for hundreds of Wraith deaths. _Hundreds_, old man. Maybe even thousands if you count all the hive ships he's destroyed. You let him die, you're destroying the best chance to defeat the Wraith this galaxy has ever had."

Ronon took a deep breath before continuing. "I was a Runner when I met Sheppard. He didn't have to help me. He could have left me on that planet and never looked back. But he didn't. He got his people to take the tracking device out of my back and then he took me in, gave me a home. I've seen him time and time again go beyond all reason to get his people home, without hesitation and with no regard for his own safety. From day one, his first rule has been 'We don't leave our people behind.' So you tell me old man, what exactly do you think you're going to teach a man like him?"

John was puzzled. Normally a man of few words, Ronon's appeal was urgent, yet barely controlled rage seethed under the surface. But why? What had happened to move the big guy to such an uncharacteristic display? Sheppard's head felt like it was about to explode, making it difficult to think, to remember. Ronon had said they were trying to teach him something? How? Why? Time to find out what was going on, he decided. Marshalling all of his strength, John rolled to his side and forced himself to his feet. He swayed drunkenly, needing every ounce of concentration he possessed to cross the short distance to his two team members.

By the time he reached the small group, the head councilman was clasping Teyla's hands while Ronon looked on. "I pray your healers will be successful. Perhaps in time, we can again consider an alliance."

She nodded, smiling as she pulled away. Ronon was already moving toward the door. "Thank you, Marius. I will be sure to tell Elizabeth of your good wishes. But now we must go; time is of the essence."

"Hey, wait for me!" John's outraged protest fell on deaf ears and his team neither acknowledged him nor slowed down. Without time to regroup his strength, he staggered after them. Unable to keep pace with them in his weakened state, he had to settle for simply keeping them in sight as he lagged behind. When they turned a corner and disappeared from sight, he tried to speed up to catch them. Instead of moving faster, he stumbled and nearly fell. By the time he righted himself, he heard a familiar sound that sent his heart to racing. Someone was dialing the gate. They wouldn't leave without him, he told himself as he pushed away from the wall to go find them.

By the time he reached the Kaligaran gateroom, the wormhole had engaged. "Wait!" he called, frustrated at both his weakness and his team's lack of response. Ronon and Teyla were already stepping through to Atlantis, prompting him to scream as he lunged for the open gate. He closed his eyes, preparing for the now-familiar sensation of his body dematerializing. But the expected sensations never came and he landed heavily on the floor on the back side of the gate. He couldn't believe it--didn't _want_ to believe it. They left him behind, broke his number one rule. How could they do it without even sparing a backward glance?

A feeling of deja vu again washed over him as he lay there, his chest heaving from the exertion. Dark spots danced before his eyes as he tried to summon the strength to find the DHD. He had to get home. He had to. And once he got there, certain people had better have a damn good explanation for their actions. Using the last of his energy, he crawled to the pedestal across the room, inch by agonizing inch. He tried to pull himself up, but his strength was gone. His vision narrowed and his muscles shook violently, but through sheer stubbornness he made it to his knees. Clinging desperately to the edge, he pushed the first symbol,then the second. He reached for the third, but his traitorous body gave out and he slid to the floor. Sobs wracked his chest as he hovered on the edge of awareness. "Why?" he whimpered. "Why did you leave me?"

There was no answer, just as he'd known there wouldn't be. He was alone again, abandoned on an alien world by those he'd trusted most. Totally devastated, John allowed the darkness to take him.

* * *

"There! His hand moved. I told you he's waking up."

"Aye, Rodney, I saw. But that doesn't mean he's waking just yet."

"Yes, he is," insisted McKay.

"I've already told you this would likely take awhile. It was a muscle spasm, nothing more."

Sheppard was fairly certain he was dreaming, but he figured it was time to find out--even if it meant giving McKay something to lord over Carson. "Ha! There, look at his eyes. He's blinking. So Mr. VooDoo Man, go on, tell me _that's_ a muscle spasm," gloated Rodney.

John finally got his eyes open and looked blearily up at the Scot standing over him. Swallowing heavily, he croaked out a greeting. "Hi, Carson."

"Hey, what about me?" demanded an irate McKay.

Rodney's outburst triggered something and suddenly John was back in the Kaligaran council chamber. His eyes closed and in his mind he watched them work to save him. But he also knew without a doubt that they had left him behind. It was all so...jumbled. Frowning, he looked up at Beckett. "Happened?" he whispered.

Carson smiled sympathetically. "You were drugged, Colonel. The Kaligarans thought you were you one of the Ancients. Between the drug and a holographic neural interface, you were made to see and experience a false memory. They were attempting to show you what it felt like to be abandoned by those you most trust."

Sheppard's frown deepened. "But I drowned. And then..." His eyes widened. "They left me behind. _You guys left me behind_," he accused, glaring at Rodney.

"Did not! You're here, aren't you? And by the way, you so owe me--I saved your life. When you stepped on the platform, it triggered a force field which caused it to release the gas, which in turn triggered the neural interface to kick in and induce your so-called drowning. The council wouldn't let us go to you at first, but then they realized that you weren't breathing and set us free. I had to do CPR...well okay, Teyla helped, but you weren't responding anyway, so Ronon carried you to the gate. I brought you through while he and Teyla went back for a sample of the gas. Oh, and you're never going to believe how they got it." A smug McKay gloated, his arms folded.

"Ronon convinced them." More memories played in his head as he answered.

"The Caveman...hey! How did you know that?"

John rubbed his forehead, attempting to massage away the rapidly-building ache. "I don't know. I just...do."

"All right, there will be time enough for that later, once the colonel has rested. Now go on, out with you--you can come back in a few hours and not before." Rodney opened his mouth to protest, but Carson cut him off before he could even get started. "Unless you'd like me to call security?"

McKay's mouth snapped shut and he hurriedly gathered his things. "Fine. I'll be back in two hours."

"Three," countered Beckett.

He rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. As he turned to leave, Sheppard stopped him. "Rodney? Thanks."

McKay nodded, somewhat appeased. "You're welcome. And I'm, um, sorry about the..." He made a vague gesture toward Sheppard's chest.

John frowned. "About the what?"

"Well, you weren't breathing and you had no pulse--we had no choice, we had to do CPR." A pronounced jab in the side from Beckett only caused McKay to become even more defensive. "What? You said yourself that if it's done right the odds of breaking ribs are quite high."

"You broke my ribs?" John's hand immediately went to his chest to feel out the damage, but Carson deftly intercepted it and guided it back to his side.

"Well I didn't mean to! And besides, if I had let Teyla do the chest compressions then I'd have had to be the one who...you know" Rodney turned beet red as he again gestured toward Sheppard.

John's eyes widened as comprehension set in and settle back into his pillows. "Well then, thank you. Again."

Still blushing furiously, Rodney beat a hasty retreat. "I should, um, go tell the others. Or something." He paused to gesture at the door. "Anyway, I'll see you in little while." With a final glare at the Scot, he scurried off.

As he prepared to inject medication into John's IV, Carson gave him a knowing look. "He's been near beside himself since you were brought in. They all have. You don't really believe they'd willingly leave you behind, do you?"

Sheppard shook his head. "No. No, I don't. I guess things are a little...mixed up right now." John tilted his head, a puzzled look crossing his features. "How long was I out anyway?"

"You were brought in nearly an hour ago." Beckett injected the drug into the IV port as he answered. "But make no mistake about it, Colonel. It was a very close thing this time. If Ronon and Teyla hadn't been able to get that sample..."

"Only an hour?" John was incredulous. "Sure seemed like a lot longer."

"Aye, I'm sure it did."

John shifted, trying to get comfortable, a frown stealing across his features. "It all felt so real. But at the same time, it also felt...wrong. And Ronon. What he said. That wasn't like him. At all. But then at the same time, it was. I..." He looked at Beckett, confused. "He doesn't really believe that. Does he?"

Carson patted his shoulder. "Like I told Rodney, there will plenty of time to sort it all out later. But for now, you need to rest. I think we both know that there will be three very anxious people here when you wake up. You can ask him about it then if it's still bothering you."

The drug took affect quickly. John smiled as he drifted off, content in the knowledge that that Beckett was right; those three visitors would never ever willingly leave him behind--no matter what.


End file.
